The Lucky Ones
by slyprentice
Summary: The first thing they tell him is that he's one of the lucky ones. Pre-slash. Part 1 of 'The Man Who Held The Line'.


**Title**: The Lucky Ones  
><strong>Series<strong>: The Man Who Held The Line [1]  
><strong>Author<strong>: Prentice (slyprentice)  
><strong>Category<strong>: The Guardians of the Galaxy  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Alternate Universe - Soul Mates, Heavy Angst, Survivors Guilt, Pre-Slash, Post-Canon  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Garthan Saal/Ronan the Accuser (eventual)  
><strong>Overall Rating<strong>: Teen  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Even though most of it is heavily implied, there's some reference to survivors guilt, suicidal thoughts, and PTSD.  
><strong>Author's Note<strong>:_ ...yeah, the pairing up there is a spoiler for where I'm going with this but I thought everyone should know what they're getting into. Ronan's a dick with daddy issues (and not dead). Garthan's lucky (in the worst possible ways). They're gonna fall in love (but only after some angry sex). It's gonna be horrible (and then really, really awesome). That pretty much sums up my plan for this._

**Summary**: The first thing they tell him is that he's one of the lucky ones.

* * *

><p>The first thing they tell him is that he's one of the lucky ones. That the damage could have been much much worse. That he could have died like the rest of them, his fellow soldiers who he'd served with for cycles now and who he can hardly think of for their absence.<p>

It's difficult to hear. Difficult to even think. They're gone – _all of them_ – and he is considered the lucky one for being left behind. The lucky one for being left alive in whatever ravaged remains of a body he's got left.

It's – he can't think about it right now. Not clearly, anyhow. The grief and pain are too close, too clear. He feels swallowed by them, engulfed and encased and trapped by them.

He feels – lost, alone, and in pain – but somehow, he's the lucky one.

* * *

><p>The second thing they tell him is that the damage to his body is extensive. He's been on life support for more than half-a-cycle, fed through tubing and medicated by carefully maintained med-injections. He's been given the best care the Nova Corps has to offer, though; treated with the latest medical treatments so he has the best chance of survival.<p>

That he's awake now – drifty, maybe, but still awake – is a good sign. An excellent sign. They all seem cheered by it. Apparently his chances of survival increase exponentially now that he's awake.

Carefully planned rehabilitation is not totally out of the question now. He'll be able to walk again, very likely. Perhaps with a limp – there's some nerve damage that they're not entirely sure will ever heal and his shattered knee cap will have to be replaced – but still, he'll be mobile again one day.

It's some of the best news they could ever hope for, they tell him. Especially since they hadn't been sure he'd survive the night that first day. He had, though.

He had.

* * *

><p>The third thing they tell him is that he's been named a war hero.<p>

Given the highest honor the Nova Corps has to offer, they tell him that his name will be etched into the annals of Xandarian and Nova Corps history. He is the lone survivor of the fleet.

He is the soldier who will be known as 'The Man Who Held the Line'.

* * *

><p>The fourth thing they tell him is perhaps the worst of all. They lay it out for him slowly, carefully. Jubilant, almost, to tell him something good, something tangible to hold onto, during his recuperation.<p>

During one of their examinations, early in his recovery, when they still weren't sure if he would survive, they had found a soul mark. It is, they tell him, at the apex of his shoulder blade. Faint now but for the slightest pigmentation and deep dermal shading that is not uncommon when associated with the deepest of soul bonds.

It will grow darker, they assure him. Resolve itself into something identifiable. A name, a symbol, or even a series of numbers. It's too soon to tell which one it'll be, especially with it forming beneath newly grafted skin, but it'll happen.

It'll just take time.

* * *

><p>Later, they tell him again he's very lucky.<p>

Not only had he survived the battle but he'd also somehow – by some miracle – found a soul mate in the midst of so much tragedy. The gods must have truly blessed him for his bravery. For his unwavering loyalty to his duty and the people of Xandar.

Garthan Saal doesn't feel very brave. He doesn't feel very lucky, either. Mostly he just feels – everything bad that he can name. Distressed, hurting, and afraid. Quietly desperate to be able to change time and fate; to become just another name, another corpsman, who will be memorialized, their names engraved into another wall of remembrance.

He can't be, though. He won't be. He's fighting a battle that's already been won, and there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing, but learn to survive with it. Nothing, but learn to _deal_ with it.

He's one of the lucky ones, after all, and somehow he'll have to learn to live with that.

One way or another.

**the end (for now)**


End file.
